Wearing the Horns
by Gai27
Summary: One drunken night, Harry admits to a rather risqué fantasy that leads his wife, Ginny, into the arms of another.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. All characters are property of Rowling

Chapter 1

Just because I was drunk when I said it doesn't make it any less true. In fact, according to Ginny, it makes it ten times more telling. It's insane really, this fantasy of mine. I would have never thought myself the type. But I remember the first time thoughts like these popped into my mind. It was only a few months after we married, it was Ron and Hermione's wedding day. Life couldn't have been better for any of us. Ron and I had just graduated from the Auror academy. Hermione was enjoying her Transfigurations apprenticeship with McGonagall. Ginny was more than happy with her job in the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the ministry. I don't think there was ever a time before that when we had all been so happy and content.

I suppose it might have been one of those things where you subconsciously try to sabotage your own happiness. I guess I just wasn't use to things going well for me. I might have been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't know.

Ginny looked beautiful that day, in an emerald green silk dress and matching robes. It was one of my favourites on her. There wasn't a male pair of eyes in the place that didn't linger when we passed. I know she has an effect on men, I've noticed before. Of course I know how attractive she is; I married her for god's sake. I'm not the overly jealous type, but who wouldn't be affected seeing their wife ogled by half the people in the room. I even noticed some women staring her way, and not only in envy. Yes, my Ginny is stunning. No one can deny that. So I couldn't help feel a twinge of something primal when she got overly long hugs from our male friends.

She and Dean were work mates at the time and his lingering arms around her when they said hello was even more infuriating for just that reason. They saw each other every day at the office, why did he even need to hug her. I watched them, as George chattered away about his newest invention beside me, nodding when he paused and ah ha-ing when it sounded like a question. I watched Dean causally lay his hand on my wife's waist as they talked in their little group.

Part of me wanted to stomp over there and break every single finger on that hand. Another part of me wanted to know what his face would look like if he were to discover the birth mark in the shape of an old VW beetle on that very spot. He was raised in the muggle world; he'd probably be as fascinated by it as I was when I first saw it. You can even make out two wheels if you look hard enough. Ginny didn't understand my obsession with it.

Maybe it was the alcohol that time as well. Over the years since, I've found it easy to blame the free flowing Champaign of that night. If it wasn't for Ginny's probing, I'd still blame the alcohol. For my mind wondered into treacherous dark waters while I watched them. I couldn't help imagining what Dean's dark skinned hand would look like pressed against Ginny's pale flesh if that dress wasn't in the way. I wondered what her hair would look like against his stomach and hips if she were to kneel over him the way she liked to do to me. I tried to imagine her expression if it were him moving inside her and not me. Would she be different? Would she move differently? Make different sounds? Would she come differently?

After a while George had given up on my company and left me alone at the bar. Ginny and Dean had by then gone their separate ways and were socialising with others. I was still trapped in my own head, with illicit and scandalous thoughts of my wife with another man.

That night, when we made love, I let my imagination run wild. I'm sure my inebriation helped matters a bit. I thought of her with Dean, I thought of her with Seamus, with Dennis, with Neville, hell a dark part of me even thought of her with Ron. I watched her mouth move as she said my name and I imagined what it would look like with another's panted out from between those luscious pink lips. That one night I truly let myself go and it was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever experienced.

The next day of course, I spent most of the morning with my head over the toilet bowl. I knew it wasn't only because of how much I drank. I was disgusted with myself. How I could even contemplate such things, let alone allow myself to make love to her using those images to fuel the flames. I had to stop myself many times that day from apologising to her. I tried to forget it all. I pushed it down into the far recesses of my mind. I blamed the Champaign.

But flashes of intermingled limbs, one set hers' and the other not mine, would enter my mind on the odd occasion, usually in the most inopportune times. Like when the tanned Italian healer named Roberto, performed her first check up when she was pregnant with James. Or the time we had a civil yet awkward and perfunctory run in with Draco Malfoy and his wife in Diagon Alley. Or if I were in one of my darker moods, I'd take to the shower, with only the company of my own hand to sooth me. I tried my damndest never to think of it when we made love, and mostly I succeeded. But these thoughts never left me not even when I became a father and the stakes on our family went up big time.

And then I had to go and let it slip, slip right off my bourbon soaked tongue; to the one person it would do the most damage to. Ginny's face had been fuzzy by then, but I remember the look of shock when I answered her question. The little game we were playing of "what's your most unconventional fantasy?" now seems like the worst decision we ever made. The little minx made me go first and the shock of my revelation meant we never even got to hers. Her silence was what made me concentrate on what I was saying. I think I saw disgust in her eyes for a moment, I can't be sure. But my mind cleared a bit and I bolted out of the sofa we were cuddled up on. I think I stuttered some apologies and excuses. I still have the scar on my forearm where I fell against the door handle trying to get my broom out of the closet. Flying probably wasn't the best idea that night, but I needed to get away.

When I finally came home, Ginny was already asleep. I thought of using an obliviate on her. I even held my trembling wand to her temple for a moment. Of course I couldn't do it. Besides, who knew who she might have talked to while I was gone? The damage was already done. The next morning we said nothing to each other as we prepared to fetch James from Ron and Hermione's place where he'd spent the night. They wanted to give us a night to ourselves, to spend some quality time together, just the two of us. James was almost a year, and they were just a floo-call away. We jumped at their offer. So much for that idea. I thought I must have just ruined our marriage for good.

We didn't speak about it that whole day and a part of me wondered if maybe she hadn't remembered since she was just as sloshed as I was the night before. But I could tell that she did remember. Of course I wouldn't be that lucky. I saw her watch me out of the corner of her eye on more than one occasion. Even Hermione could tell she was distracted when we went over there. But she didn't say a word to me about it. I hoped maybe we'd just not talk about it again, and in time she'd forget it. Again, of course I wouldn't be that lucky.

The next day after we'd put James to bed, she joined me on the sofa like she usually would, only this time without her book. She wanted to talk. I knew that look. I denied everything at first. I used the "I was drunk" excuse. Then I tried to tell her it was an ill thought out joke; that I was trying to see if she'd ever think of cheating on me. Naturally she knew me better than that. After hours of denial, evasion and anger I finally had to give in and admit it all to her. She was a female Weasley, strong and persistent. I told her everything. How and when it started, what fantasies I had imagined since then. I was red faced and ill with embarrassment by the end of it all. She took me up to the bathroom where we showered together and then she proceeded to make gentle love to me in our bed, whispering that she loved me.

After that things went back to normal for a while. Looking back I think she did need time to come to terms with it all. And knowing what I know now, she probably needed time to decide whether to do something about it or not. I never imagined she would even consider it. I had thought that was that, I told her, and that was the end of it. Until the night of the ministry ball about two months later.

I don't know what gave me away; the ballroom was so crowded I didn't even think she could see me where I stood observing from the open balcony. But somehow she did see me and somehow she knew. I suppose that's why she remained at his side for so long. Even though he'd mellowed somewhat since the war, even I could tell, from my far away vantage point, that he was starting to get a bit irritated with her constant chatter. She knew it too; she left him before she pushed it too far. But when she walked over to me, she had the look in her eye. That mischievous look that always seemed to set my heart racing.

It didn't take much coaxing from her to get me to admit what I had been thinking about when I watched them together. And I don't know if it was the new openness with which I could speak to her about it, or whether it was that man in particular, but something about that night's imaginings brought more intensity to my fantasies than ever before. My mistake was telling her that as well. I saw it in her eyes the moment it happened, I saw her resolve set and I knew we were all doomed.

She lied to me that first time we went to him. She told me we were off to visit with a sickly aunt of hers. I suppose I could have recognised the place if I had tried hard enough, maybe a part of me wanted to be duped into this. When I saw his scowling face though, as he opened the door, it took all my strength not to grab her by the wrist and apparate right out of there. But she gave me that look and I had to follow her inside, all the while thinking how immensely horrible this idea was. He would surely kill us both, right there on his dusty old carpet. Poor little James.

It turned out Ginny had contacted him about wanting to set up a meeting. And for god knows what reason, he's accepted. The look on his face at the time told me that he didn't know the reason either. But he was hospitable enough. Offering us only a set of hard chair to sit on, no hot or cold beverages of course, not that I expected any less. While part of me wanted nothing more than to bolt with Ginny in toe, another part was morbidly curious about the way she'd handle this. Who wouldn't want to know if anyone could successfully proposition Severus Snape? Especially with the bane of his existence for an audience.

Snape sneered and scowled heartedly at us, telling us to get on with our business there. And that's exactly what my Ginny did. To this day I'm surprised to still have my head after her little stunt. Without another word she stood and waved her wand at herself, she was left in the most gorgeous forest green satin and black lace underwear I have ever seen. The half corset thingy (I don't remember what it's called even though she told me once) and barely there panties was unlike anything she'd owned before. I was struck dumb. Until Snape stood, equally as shocked. I was moved into action, seeing his bulging eyes taking in her form. I rose abruptly, moving to stand in front of her and holding my robes out at the sides to try and shield her from his gaze.

She pushed me hard to the side, I almost stumbled. "Don't be an idiot harry," she said as she kept her eyes on him.

'What is the meaning of this?' Snape finally managed to get over his shock and was glaring at the both of us with such fury I could almost feel it burning my skin.

'Harry and I would like to ask you a favour, professor.'

I must say I was highly impressed by my wife's calm, standing there with her hands on her hips, almost posing in her delectable underwear and black high heeled sandals, and speaking as if they were discussing the weather. I could see Snape confusion and outrage but I could also see his eyes struggling to keep away from her breasts. Something in me stirred then.

'Ginny, this is insane. Please let's just go.' I'm sure they heard the pleading in my tone. It was all too much for me, all I could think was; oh god, what if he agrees, what have I done?

Ginny looked over at me, and for the first time I saw doubt in her eyes. I should've pounced right then, I should have used that opportunity to talk her out of it, to tell her I didn't really want this. But I didn't, because even at that very moment, I was imagining what Snape's fingers would look like hooked in that delicate black strap at her shoulder. My moment for saving us all was gone when she saw my eyes stray. Again I had damned us with my obscene thoughts.

'If you agree professor, it would only be one night,' Ginny continued, 'one night with me at your disposal. We're prepared to enter into a vow of secrecy if that's what you're worried about.'

I watched as Snape's expression cleared. The fury was gone, but the suspicion was still there.

'Is this some kind of joke? I am to believe that the boy wonder would let me, of all people, fuck his wife?' he was looking at me now, trying to find some sign that this was all some kind of sick prank.

'We've both wanted this for some time now professor.' I couldn't help shooting her a look at that lie. I'm sure it was a tell tale sign for someone like Snape, a rookie mistake, but I was shocked that she'd allow herself to be dragged down like that because of me.

'Both?' Snape raised his eyebrow at me.

'Yes, harry will watch.'

Immediately I felt my face heat up like a furnace. And the look Snape was giving me wasn't helping matters. I should have hexed that smirk off his face right then and there. It was as if he knew somehow, that this was all my idea. That something sick and twisted inside me wanted to watch another man taking my wife, while I sat on the side lines. I suppose that was why he turned his gaze back to Ginny and this time openly appraised her. His lascivious stare was unbearable, I wanted to stab his eyes out with a white hot poker, I wanted to unhook her bra so he could see more. I was driving myself insane.

'I will send an owl with a time and place for you to meet with us. You can either show up or not, professor, it's up to you. If you do not, you have my word that this meeting will never be spoken of again. By either of us. '

I was still watching his penetrating eyes roam over my wife's body, when I felt Ginny take hold of my hand. I watched her wave her wand at herself a second time that afternoon, and she was once again turned into my modest demur wife, in robes of dark beige.

'Thank you for your time sir. We'll see ourselves out.' With that she pulled me towards the door. I looked at Snape one last time, not sure if I should say anything. He's smirk was gone this time, replaced with an expression I couldn't quite place. And then we were outside and apparating back to the normalcy of our lives, if anything could ever be normal again.


	2. Chapter 2

I tried to talk her out of it after that, telling her that we didn't need to do this. Sometimes I think she wanted to take me up on my offer, but each time her face and posture would harden, and she'd tell me how much she loved me. She said she was doing this for me, and that it wouldn't change anything between us. I think she was trying to convince herself more than me. But each night following that meeting with Snape, I'd take to the shower by myself, my hand flying rapidly over myself to thoughts of them together. After which I'd make love to her as lovingly and as gently as I could. Reminding her again and again how much love I have for her.

She sent the owl as promised, asking me first to confirm if the time and place was okay before tying the parchment to our owl's leg. She choose a hotel in muggle London, someplace no one would recognise any of us. She choose that coming Saturday, which Molly had already decided was her day to spend with little James. Everything seemed to be set. We never received an acceptance from Snape. But we never received a rejection either.

And so now we're here, waiting for him in room 211. Ginny had advised him in the letter to ask for the Freeman's at the front desk. He is suppose to arrive at 3. It is now 2:52.

'Ginny...' I'm not really sure what to say to her. She's been a bit distracted whole morning. When we left James at the burrow, Molly asked me if everything was okay with Ginny. I told her that her daughter was just a bit tired as little James has been having some trouble sleeping lately. Which is true, James has taken to waking again in the middle of the night. But it's not the reason Ginny's so distracted. I know the reason. I have to say it. Just once more.

'Ginny, honey, we can leave right now. We don't have to do this. I don't need you to do this.' I mean every last word of it. As much as the thought has thrilled me, what's most important to me is my family. If she's not comfortable then I'd really rather go. I already have enough guilt to last a life time.

She comes over to me and sits in my lap and kisses my nose. 'I want to do this Harry. I'm just nervous that's all. I mean, its Snape!' she says, laughing a little.

'And you don't find him attractive.' I try to finish for her.

'No, it's not that. I think his, you know, attractive, in his own way. He's kinda...sexy...in a way.' She blushes slightly.

'It's just that...I never thought I'd be with another man besides you.'

'Then don't Ginny. Let's go right now.' I stand, setting her down on her feet in front of me.

She's regarding me with squinted eyes, and a large part of me hopes she'll let me walk her out of the door and back to our cosy suburban home.

'Tell me honestly Harry, how would you feel if you were to watch him slide two of his long fingers inside me?'

My breath hitches and my hand clenches around her arm. She can tell the effect it has on me, and I know she made her words so descriptive just for that reason. She doesn't give me a chance to respond. Not that I could, even if I wanted to. She kisses me instead. Her lips press hard onto mine and she fists her hands into the short hairs at the base of my skull on either side of my neck. She knows I like that.

'I'll be in the bathroom getting ready. I love you Harry. Nothing will ever change that. I want to do this for you.' She pecks my lips one more time and goes off towards the door behind me. I sink down into the chair again in defeat, and a small part of me in triumph. It's going to happen.

I've been trying to work out why this affects me so much. Why would it give me such a thrill to think of my wife having sex with another man while I watch? It's ludicrous. How could any self respecting man even think about allowing another man to touch his wife, let alone fuck her while he sits and watches. It's mental. There were times over the last few weeks that I seriously considered admitting myself to St. Mungo's. I just don't understand it. I don't understand why I'm not trying harder to dissuade her. Even though I know this has the potential to lead us to ruin. I don't understand my obsession with the whole thing in the first place. But I'm hoping that when I see Snape lay his hand on her for the first time, I'll be shaken out of this crazed dementia and fight tooth and nail to get her away from him.

I can hear the toilet flush in the bathroom and it brings me back to the now. Looking up at the clock my heart skips a beat. Its 3:02. Snape's never late. He's probably decided not to come. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed. The mere thought that I could feel disappointed, sickens me. But I am. Just a bit. I force myself to get up and tell Ginny Snape won't be coming. Honestly, I want to sit and wait, maybe his just running late (just another 5 minutes?). But I don't. This craziness has gone on long enough. I hear the water in the sink run as I approach the bathroom door. Just before I knock, another knock resounds through the room. Again my heart skips. I take a deep breath as I turn. This time it's the relief I feel that sickens me.

Snape's infamous scowl is in place as I open the door. But for once, I don't think it's meant for me.

'The elevator stalled.' He says by way of greeting. I say nothing. What do you say to the man who's about to sleep with your wife with your permission. He walks into the room, scanning it.

'She's in the bathroom.' I finally say, trying to put some disapproval into my voice, as if trying to convince him that I'm not pleased with the idea of what's going to happen here. He simply looks at me, no smirk, but I know he knows. It infuriates me.

'Let's get something straight okay,' I square my shoulder and face him head on, his still a tad taller than me though. But I look him dead in the eye. Even though this is happening, I don't want him to think he's running the show. 'She is my wife, and what happens here today will change absolutely nothing. This is a one-time thing, and you're here for one purpose only.' He only raises his eyebrow at me.

'I have no long term interest in your wife, Potter. Frankly, she isn't really my type.'

I force my hands into fists so as not to draw my wand. 'You should consider yourself lucky that she'd even let you near her, let alone...' I cut myself off, he's smiling at me. I know his trying to bait me. I take another deep breath and try to compose myself. I'm beginning to think that maybe I'll come to my senses after all and drag Ginny out of here.

'There are rules.' I start again, trying to keep my calm. 'You will not hurt her physically. If she says no to anything you do, you will stop immediately. Both she and I have every right to stop this at any time and leave. You can leave too if you so wish. And after this, you will have no link with her outside of this hotel room. When it's over it's over and you are not to seek her out again, is that clear?'

Snape scowls mightily and I expect him to oppose me somehow. Not because he disagrees but because he doesn't like being told the rules by me of all people. I know this. But all he says is; 'Crystal.' And my previous temper in immediately deflated. Just then the bathroom door clicks open and we both turn to see Ginny walk out into the room. She walks straight to me and stands at my side.

'Good afternoon Professor.' She says politely, while she stands there barefoot in a hotel bath gown that doesn't conceal her cleavage. Snape bows his head towards her, 'Mrs. Potter.' His smiling at her, it's subtle, but what's most shocking is that it's genuine. His eyes slip down her body. My hand immediately flies to grasp hers. I squeeze tight.

Too tight I guess because she suddenly turns to me. Ginny puts herself between Snape and my and raises her hand to my cheek, pulling my gaze away from the man I'm pretty sure I should want to kill right now, or at least badly maim. I'm angrier with myself for not being able to actually feel that way.

I look into her beautiful brown eyes. She's mine. That's all I really want him to know. So I meet her half way to the kiss she was leaning into anyway. It's strong and territorial, I want him to see that I was here first, and I'll be here last. I can feel her walking me towards the chair I was sitting in before; I let her push me into it without a moments hesitation. My mind is so messed up. I want to stake my claim but at the same time, I want to take pleasure in watching it in the hands of another. She's looking at me now. Does she want me to say something?

"Come here Mrs Potter."

She lingers for just a while longer, staring at me. I stare back. Then she turns. I watch as she walks towards him. My heart is racing. She moves to stand in front of him.

He's looking at her. Now more than ever I hate that he can keep his expression so blank. There it is. The first touch. He runs his hands up her arms until he reaches her biceps. Then he turns her to face me. The first touch didn't spark my flight reflex but the look on her face now almost does. She looks uncertain, lost, and nervous. I should get up and take her away from him. Or Maybe I should just give him a minute to see if he can settle her down. He runs the backs of his fingers down her arms and around her waist, to meet his hands together at the tie of her gown. Where he stops altogether.

When I look up towards him, I realise why. He's looking at me, smirking. He wants me to look at him. He wants me to know that it's him, Snape the Potions Master, who is doing this to my wife. He begins to untie the knot and I watch as he slides the cloth belt out of the loop until it's completely separate from the gown. I can see the narrow line of pale white skin and hints of material running down Ginny middle. But he can't. Yet.

He has his wand in his hand now, twirling it towards the length of cloth his holding. It turns black, stretches broader and gets a little shorter. I see Ginny flinch as he brings it up to her face. She moves her head away, but he brings his mouth close to her ear, I see his lips move. I don't know what he said to her, but she allows him to tie the cloth around her eyes. She can't see me anymore. I can't see any more doubt reflected in her eyes. I want to be almost sick at the gratitude I feel towards him for that.

He runs his fingers through the hair at the sides of her face, pulling it back behind her. He's whispering to her again. I see her shudder slightly. Then he moves away from her. And towards me. I don't know if I should stand or not.

"Drop the robe Mrs. Potter.' He says while he walks.

Ginny's head is turning, looking for where he went off to. I see her lift her hands to her shoulders and after a moments' pause she slides it down her arms. He's at my side now; he can see what I see. My wife, standing in the middle of a hotel room, in that breath taking green and black lingerie she wore the last time we were with this man. She looks like a sinful angel. Snape bends to whisper to me this time.

"I suppose you want her to enjoy this don't you?' he sneers at me.

"Of course!' I snap, indignant that he'd think otherwise. But I think he's trying to tell me something, he's giving me that look he use to give in class, when he thought students incomprehensibly dumb for not doing something that was, to him at least, blatantly obvious.

"Harry?' Ginny's heard me. She looks lost again. I see her leg twitch as if she wants to come to me.

I finally get what he was trying to say; "I'm here honey, everything's okay. You look beautiful." But rationally I shouldn't be placating her; I should be throwing her over my shoulder and hexing Snape into next year. Instead I watch him walk back to her, taking in the look of pure lust I see on his face as he takes in her form.

"Beautiful indeed, I was so hoping you'd wear this ensemble today.' He reaches out one finger to run along the black piping settled snug against her ribcage. He whispers something to her again as he resumes his place behind her. I see her nod. I wish I knew what he was saying to her. But I dare not interrupt. Especially now as he lays both his palms flat on her belly. They cover her stomach completely. I can see her breath getting faster. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. He's still whispering to her.

Those hands, that I now realise, I've seen chopping up the most grotesque of ingredients for so many years, are now gliding down the front of my wife's body. He slides it just for a second over the green satin 'V' between her legs and then out over the tops of her thighs. I can see her stomach muscles quiver as he caresses her. I look up to see his lips on her neck, it looks like his biting her, but I hear her moan. It's the first sign of pleasure I've hear from my wife while in the arms of another man. My stomach muscles clench.

It seems to have spurred him on as well. He's settle one hand over her mound, the other I can see tracing the lace under her breast. I can see the skin over his knuckles move as if he's clinching his hand against her sex. I guess that's exactly what his doing, as my Ginny moans again, and I see her shift her legs together. His other hand is now covering her left breast. Kneading in tune with his other.

There's no going back now. Even if I stood up right now and stopped this, it's been done. Another man has touched my wife intimately. Touched places on her body no other man should have touched since we said the words "I do". But here we are. Me, practically glued to my chair in sick twisted fascination, and my bride, moaning and withering before me in the hands of another. As much as she's said the opposite, I know now that something has changed. I never thought it would be so enthralling.

I feel Snape's gaze on me now, I know his watching me, relishing me reaction, but I'm too focused on the procession of his fingers disappearing beneath the fabric of her knickers. I see Ginny's whole body shudder as he insinuates his hand further between her thighs.

'Open your legs Mrs. potter.' I hear him say. She moans and complies. I know he said It out loud for my benefit. If not he would have whispered it to her like he's done all the time before this. He wants me hear him give my wife orders. He wants to rub it in. That's why he insists on calling her Mrs Potter. I'll let him do it. He's getting something out of this, so am I. And by the look of Ginny's thrashing head, I think she is too.

I can see the fabric of green satin, move in bumps and dips as he plays with her. A flash of skin above catches my attention then. His pulled her left breast out of her bra, palming the underneath as if lifting it to my direction. _I know what my wife's tits look like thank you_, I think. But then again, not like this. I've never seen long thin fingers that aren't mine, flitting over her peach coloured nipple. His skin is almost the same colour as hers. White as marble. It would almost blends together, if it wasn't for the sparse but noticeable black hairs at his knuckles.

Ginny's breaths float across the room in shudders as pinches her nipple, pulling it out toward me, as if he wanted to offer it to me. I can see the small knob of flesh turn red as he squeezes and rolls it between his fingers. I notice her arm jerking towards his hand still busily caressing between her legs. She groans and I see he's saying something to her again. And she nods. Again. Her lips are moving, not only from panting but from words as well. I only hear sounds though. I know this part. I know it well. She becomes very incoherent when she's about to come. Her legs are pressing and rubbing together. I'm surprised he can even move his hand between that kind pressure. His other hand is pulling and rubbing at her nipple faster now. And the green shimmering fabric covering her sex and his hand is undulating in a decidedly steady and repetitive motion.

Ginny's hand finally makes its flight to cover his at her crotch. Her groans and moans are sending shock waves to the very hard erection I only now realise I've been sporting. I watch as her head rolls from side to side against Snape's shoulder, his lips at her ear. And then my stomach plummets as she comes, her body pulling taught, her pelvis thrusts forward, mouth open and releasing a convulsive breath towards the ceiling. Snape's hands slow but do not stop. She shivers as she slumps down into his body. I can see the smile on her face, below the black cloth around her eyes.

I can also see the triumphant smirk on Snape's face, as he looks over her shoulder at me. He pulls his hand out of her knickers slowly and wiggles his fingers this way and that to be sure that the wetness there can catch the light, and catch my attention. He brings it to his mouth, eyebrow raising as if daring me to say a word as he licks my wife's essence off his fingers. Of course I don't. I only watch. He just doesn't understand. Who could, really?


End file.
